Marked by the Enemy Alpha

Chapter 4: The Claiming

Thalia

The clearing explodes into chaos.

Wolves are talking over each other, voices rising in shock and speculation. I catch fragments—"the King's mate," "just an omega," "did you see the marks?"—but it all sounds distant, muffled, like I'm underwater.

Because all I can focus on is him.

Draeven stands three feet away, his silver eyes locked on mine, and the mate bond between us pulses like a living thing. I can feel his emotions bleeding through—satisfaction, possession, and something darker I can't name. It makes my skin crawl. Makes my wolf purr.

I hate them both.

"Your Majesty." Alpha Garrett pushes through the crowd, his face carefully neutral but his scent reeking of anxiety. "This is... unprecedented. The omega, Thalia, she belongs to Crescent Moon Pack. Surely we can discuss—"

"There's nothing to discuss." Draeven doesn't even look at him. His gaze stays fixed on me, predatory and absolute. "The mate bond is sacred. Moon Goddess law supersedes pack law. You know this, Garrett."

"Of course, but—"

"Are you questioning me?"

The temperature in the clearing seems to drop ten degrees. Draeven's voice doesn't rise, doesn't sharpen. It just... cuts. And suddenly, every wolf within earshot—including Alpha Garrett—drops their gaze and bares their throat in submission.

Every wolf except me.

I'm too angry. Too terrified. Too desperate.

"I reject it," I hear myself say.

The words fall into sudden silence like stones into still water.

Draeven's expression doesn't change, but I feel his shock ripple through the bond before he locks it down. "What did you say?"

"I reject the bond." My voice shakes, but I force the words out anyway. "I don't want this. I don't want you. So I—"

I don't get to finish.

His Alpha command slams into me like a physical wall: "Stop."

My jaw locks shut. My body freezes mid-sentence, muscles going rigid against my will. It's not like Beta Marcus's commands—small, petty things I've learned to resist through sheer stubbornness. This is power, ancient and absolute, wrapping around my will and crushing it like paper.

I can't move. Can't speak. Can barely breathe.

Draeven starts walking toward me.

Each step is measured, deliberate. He moves like he has all the time in the world, and maybe he does. He's the Alpha King. He could declare the moon should rise in the west and wolves would scramble to make it happen.

And I'm just an omega who can't even control her own body.

He stops directly in front of me, so close I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact. So close his scent—pine and smoke and thunderstorms—drowns out everything else.

"You can't reject what the Moon Goddess has ordained," he says softly, for my ears alone. "The bond doesn't work that way, little omega. Once it forms..."

His hand rises slowly, giving me time to see it coming. Time to panic. Time to understand exactly how helpless I am under his command.

His fingers brush the mate mark on my collarbone.

Oh, gods.

Electricity shoots through my body—white-hot, overwhelming, perfect. The mate bond flares like a supernova, flooding my senses with want and need and belonging. My wolf throws herself at my control with renewed violence, desperate to get closer, to touch more, to—

A whimper escapes my throat before I can stop it.

Draeven's pupils dilate. His thumb traces the intricate pattern of the mark, following lines that burn like brands, and I feel his satisfaction through the bond. Feel his hunger. Feel the iron control he's exerting not to push further, take more.

"You feel it, don't you?" His voice is rough now, strained. "The bond. Fighting it will only hurt you."

I want to spit in his face. Want to scream that I'd rather hurt than submit to my family's murderer.

But my body betrays me. Despite my mind's revulsion, I'm leaning into his touch. My head tilts automatically, exposing more of my throat—the ultimate omega submission—and I hate myself for it. Hate the bond. Hate him.

Tears of rage and humiliation burn behind my eyes.

Something flickers across his face. His hand drops, and he steps back, releasing the Alpha command with a gesture.

I gasp, stumbling as control returns to my limbs.

"Listen carefully," Draeven says, his voice carrying across the clearing so every witness can hear. "This omega is mine. My fated mate. Under Moon Goddess law, she is under my protection." He turns slowly, his silver gaze sweeping across the assembled pack. "If anyone touches her, harms her, or attempts to interfere with my claim, they will answer to me personally. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," dozens of voices respond in unison.

Alpha Garrett looks like he's swallowed glass. "Of course, Your Majesty. Crescent Moon Pack would never—"

"Good." Draeven cuts him off again. Then, to me: "One hour. Gather whatever belongings you have. We leave for the capital at dawn."

No. No, no, no—

"I won't go," I force out through clenched teeth. "You can't make me—"

"I can." His expression is carved granite. "I'm trying to be civilized about this, but make no mistake—you're coming with me. Whether you walk or I carry you is your choice."

The certainty in his voice makes something inside me crack. This is happening. Actually happening. In one hour, I'll be dragged away to his kingdom—the kingdom built on my family's graves, ruled by the monster who ordered their deaths.

My legs start moving before my brain catches up. I'm running, shoving through the crowd, ignoring Yara's shocked cry of my name. I don't have a plan. Don't have anywhere to go. I just need to move, need to—

"Thalia."

My name in his voice stops me cold, twenty feet away. Not a command this time. Just... my name. But it rolls through the mate bond like thunder, and my wolf keens.

I don't turn around. Can't face him. Can't face any of this.

"One hour," he repeats, softer now. Almost gentle. Which somehow makes it worse. "Don't make me hunt you."

It's not a threat. It's a promise.

I run.

One hour. Sixty minutes until I'm dragged into the kingdom built on my family's bones.

Unless I do something desperate.

Something stupid.

Something that might get me killed.